


"I'm Sorry."

by movedtoanother



Series: Mick and Rorty [2]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Crying, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lots of Crying, Panic Attack, Self-Harm, Suicide, accidental suicide, i was venting, sad shit, sorry about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/movedtoanother/pseuds/movedtoanother
Summary: Morty apologises.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend listening to 'White Blood' by Oh Wonder as you read this.

Morty paced his room, hands running through the mess of brown curls that rested on his head. Hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. Knees feeling like jello.

_Unstable._

_Unsteady._

_Weak._

Maybe he was hungry? Yeah, that must've been it. Running out of his room, Morty quickly dashed down the stairs and went to the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, trying to find something to call him down. His hand landed on an open pack of crackers, quickly taking it out and eating as much as his mouth would allow.

_**Oh no. No, no, no. Not again. Not this. Anything but this.** _

Morty sank to his knees, staring at his hands as they still shook with crumbling pieces of crackers.

Thank god that no one was home today, as they were off doing their own things. Jerry and Beth were off on some couples' therapy vacation, though even that might not work. Summer was off, probably at the mall with her friends. Rick must've been out on some errand, in some far off dimension. A wild dimension, J-145Z or something like that.

Thank god that he was alone. Alone to deal with the pieces of him that were broken. _Alone to fix himself up again._

Morty rose up from the wooden floor, shakily walking up to his bedroom. As he ascended the stairs, Morty gripped the stair railing, to the point where the railing shook alongside him.

Once in his room, Morty started up his pacing again, trying to calm himself down.

He was trapped in his head again.

Trapped in the thoughts and flashbacks of the things he's seen. Trapped in the memories of the terrible things he's done. _Trapped, his mind like a prison and he a mere prisoner._

His chest tightened and his hands shook as if he were having a seizure. His knees were shaking and wobbly as if he just withstood an earthquake. The room felt like it was closing in on him. Panic draping over him like a heavy cloak. He felt bile climbing up his throat, swallowing to force it back down. His brown eyes were blurry with tears, each like a waterfall as tears fell ceasingly.

Morty was sobbing. Each sob bouncing off the walls of the shrinking room. His breath was quick and shallow, hyperventilating as he sobbed. His cries were loud and broken.

 ** _Disgusting_** , is what he thought they were. _Pitiful_.

_He was breaking. No, he was already broken to begin with._

The yellow shirt he wore was soaking with sweat, as his body was over heating due to the panic attack. He dropped his hands from his head, to his face as he dragged them down, trying to calm himself down. The teenager then went to his bookshelf, staring at the cylindrical test tubes as he wiped away the tears with a swipe of his shirt sleeve. Taking them out of their stand, Morty let them drop to the ground, shattering with a soft crack.

Morty then moved to sit in the space between the [bookshelf and bed](https://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/rickandmorty/images/e/e8/Morty%27s_Room.png/revision/latest?cb=20150821223219), his legs bent as he tried to fit into the space. Reaching over to grab the largest piece of glass he could find, he fiddled with the piece. Leaning his back against the bookshelf, Morty spun the glass shard with his fingers, feeling himself starting to calm down.

' _I should end it_.' He thought to himself, staring at the glass with tears eyes. The teenager put the glass up to his left arm, pressing into his scarless skin. He began to create small lacerations on his arm, feeling the white-hot burn as he created them. Morty felt blood seep through them, mixing in with the tears that fell onto his arm. Morty, blinded by tears and sadness, created more and more cuts and scratches on his arm, to the point where blood dropped onto his lap.

It was then, Morty realised that he pressed too hard, puncturing his vein. Panic ran through his system again, his eyes welling up with tears again.

Jumping up, the teenager held his bleeding arm against his shirt, attempting to slow down the bleeding. Making a mad dash to the garage, Morty rummaged through Rick's things, trying to find something to fix his arm.

Not finding anything, Morty began to slowly accept that he was bleeding out. He went to find paper and a pen, jotting down a simple, straight to the point letter to his family.

" ** _To who ever finds this, or my body,_**

**_I am so sorry that I'm a fuck-up._ **

**_To mom and dad— I'm sorry that I can't make any friends, and that I'm 'special.' I am sorry that I couldn't be the son you wanted. I know I'm different, and in the bad way. I know I got 'some sort of learning disability,' as dad puts it._ **

**_To Summer— I am sorry that I ever existed. I know you hate me. I'm sorry that I couldn't be a good brother and stay out of your way. I really am._ **

**_To Rick— I hope and pray that you find my body first. I'm sorry that I couldn't be smarter. I know that I'm too scared to do anything, and that you hate it. I'm sorry that I caused you so much problems. I'm sorry for everything. I am sorry that I couldn't be clever like you. Rick, I am so goddamn sorry that I ever existed. You can go ahead and replace me with another Morty and forget about me. I won't mind. I hope he's everything that I couldn't be._ **

**_With love, Morty._** "

The teen's vision was blurring, swimming with stars and spots of darkness. He ripped out the yellow page from the notepad, holding the paper tightly in his right hand. Glancing down, he laughed lightly at the small pool of blood that came about on the grey floor.

Suddenly, he fell to the hard ground, his body going into shock. Morty's thin body shook, his body growing cold due to the blood loss. Lifting up his hands with what little strength he had left, he noticed how pale they were, the blood looking bright compared to the greyish tint his skin held. Dropping them to the ground, starting to cry again. Morty closed his eyes, breathing in deep, shaky breaths.

' _How would dying feel like_?' He wondered, a weak smile crawling onto his pale white face. He didn't picture his death as pathetic as this. Bleeding out due to his irrational decision to cut up his arm. Dying on the cold, cemented floor of the garage, holding a yellow paper in his hand. Alone.

Morty didn't picture that he'd die alone. He imagined that he'd be out, fighting some sort of aliens with Rick. 

_A death of intensity and adrenaline._

He pictured a death out in space, where he was surrounded by endless stars.

_A death amongst the stars, where his soul can dance endlessly with them._

Morty imagined a death, where he died, knowing that everything would be alright.

_A death with the promise of normalcy._

The curly haired male couldn't feel the lower half of his body anymore. Maybe that was a good thing, he wouldn't have to feel pain when he finally died.

Morty was beginning to grow so, so tired. " _Maybe, I'll die as I fall asleep_." He thought. He felt the blood pumping through his arms, the throbbing feel strangely comforting. Feeling his heart beat slow down, he could hear the beating in his ears.

Morty couldn't move his arms anymore, only feeling the throbbing. Ringing in his ears beginning to grow louder and louder. The room began to spin, as he felt so light.

_Weightless._

**_Free_**.

His body finally gave up. Morty letting out his final breath disguised as a content sigh.

Little did he know, that there was someone holding his limp body. Begging and pleading for him to wake up. Their tears of panic and sadness falling onto his pale and cold cheeks. They took the crumpled, yellow paper from his small hands, reading it with tears in their eyes. Loud sobbing bounced off the walls of the garage.

**_"I'm so sorry, Morty."_ **


	2. Chapter 2

Rick awoke that morning, his head laying on his wooden workbench. His drool sent chills down his body, as it was cold and disgusting. Lifting this head, the man wiped away the drool with the sleeve of his shirt. He had fallen asleep in the garage, again.

Shifting his head around, he looked at the metal shelf of 'science,' objects. Choosing to sit up, Rock felt his back pop in a way that wasn't good. God, out of all the things that could hurt him, his back had to be the one.

Looking around, he saw that Morty had left him a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, though both had long since lost its warmth. Taking the coffee cup, he took off the blue sticky note, reading it as he drank.

**_'You haven't been eating Rick.  
Here's a plate of eggs and coffee._ **

**_Pls eat. -Mort.'_ **

' _Mort, huh? Must've wrote it in a rush or something.'_ Rick thought as he put down the cup. He stared at the plate of eggs, deciding whether to eat it or dump it and say that he ate.

No, he wasn't starving himself, as he was thin enough as it is. Rick couldn't eat—didn't feel hunger as often. Sighing, Rick began to stuff his mouth. Finding that he was beyond hungry, as he didn't eat since yesterday morning.

Once he finished, Rick got up and stretch out his body. He heard and felt his bones popping, groaning at the loudness. Taking the emptied cup and plate, and bringing it into the house. Dumping into the sink, Rick realised that it was only six-thirty in the morning, on a Saturday— an early start.

Rick walked upstairs, trying to climb up with little noise as possible. As soon as he made it up to the landing, he realised the house was actually empty. Deciding to do a double check, Rick went to each room, knocking and opening the door to find the room barren.

Opening the teenager's door, Rick was both surprised and a bit relieved that Morty was in his room, asleep. Making his way into his room, Rick sat at near the boy, looking over him.

Even though he was asleep, Morty somehow still looked exhausted. Their latest adventure took a toll on him, both physically and mentally. The boy had dark, almost black smudges underneath his eyes, a testament to his weeks of no sleep.  
  
To shortly summarise the entire adventure—Morty was forced to behead a version of his entire family. He was ordered to kill them one by one, ordered to pull the lever to drop the massive blade on the family's neck. Rick got punched unconscious as Morty pulled the lever on the first member—himself.

Shaking away that memory, Rick sighs, running a hand through Morty's curls. Rick remembers how Morty couldn't sleep for a few weeks, waking up screaming and clawing at the air. Rick would have to run upstairs and calm him down enough to fall back asleep. He remembers how Morty, wasn't Morty.

The teenager would attack Rick, grabbing at his chest and pulling the man's skin. Morty would sometimes claw at him to the point where skin broke, causing Rick to bleed. The kid would even go far enough to bite Rick's hands to defend himself, screaming to leave him alone. Rick would let Morty beat on him until he tired himself out, that's when the older man would hold the crying teen. He would rub Morty's back, trying to end his sobbing as the boy cried himself to sleep. Once Morty's sobbing ceased and his body grew limp, Rick would lay him down and cover him once more.

Rick would then go down into the garage, and drink himself to a stupor. He would cry a bit himself, beating and belittling himself over his grandson. Rick mentally scolded himself. Thinking to himself that he should erase the family's memories and disappear again. Thinking that he should've never escaped prison.

Feeling Morty shift in his sleep, Rick was drug out of his thoughts and back into reality. He didn't realise how long he had been there, staring at Morty as he was deep in his mind and memories. Standing, the man walked out, taking once more look before closing the door behind him.

Walking back down to the garage, Rick built himself an assortment of small neutrino bombs. Once finished, Rick used the portal gun, entering back into J-145Z. Calling Morty's cellphone, Rick left a message in the boy's voicemail box.

**_"Hey, it's me, Rick. Morty, I'll-I'll be out for a bit. I'm trying to get- urp- to get back my flask from dimension J-145Z. That asshole alien-god thing f-fuckin' took it. Anyway, th-there's food in the fridge, blah blah blah. Call-call me if anything."_ **

Rick ended the message as soon as he reached the golden palace. standing in front of the enormous structure, he noticed how pathetic and stupid it looked. With the small neutrino bombs in his lab coat, Rick strolled into the palace, a smile plastred on his face.

He went straight to the godlike alien, throwing the neutrinos at its jello like body. Rick watching the bombs sink into it, he laigjed at how easy it was. The pounding steps of the alien's soldiers came running towards him. Pulling out his gun, he began to run, dodging bullets and laser fire. Rick didn't even know why he did that, why he went to such lengths to kill it.

Rick going to this extremes reminded him of King Jellybean all over again. How he killed the blue bastard with a shot of his gun. All for causing pain and problems to Morty. All because he hurt who Rick loved the most.

Hiding inside one of the rooms of the palace, he barreled into the middle of the room. Groaning as his head ended up hitting a shrine of sorts. As Rick rose to his feet, the man's eyes went wide as he saw a hundreds, even a thousand pictures of Morty. Some where he was asleep, others where the teenager was on an adventure with Rick. The biggest picture, that stood like a shrine, was a school picture of Morty, having a giant red 'X' over him. Rick felt sick, disgusted– horrified even. Many questions ran though his head; _'why Morty?,' 'what did Morty do?,'_ etcetera _,_ etcetera _._

"You found the Morty Room?" Asked the alien, causing Rick to jump and turn to face it. "This room is to Morty, dedicated to that little fucker." It explains as it began to walk around the room, curling Rick. "Yeah, I can fucking see that. Wh-What are you, some sort of-of freakin'-urp-fanboy or somethin'?" Rick asked, his voice laced with irritation and disgust.

"No, not at all. First of all– my name is Jerry, so you can call me that. Secondly, this is not a room of praise to Morty, it's a room of hatred and disgust for that pathetic human. You see, that little bastard had my brother killed, for reasons I do not understand." Jerry explains, digesting the neutrino bombs. Rick tightened his grip on the gun, aiming it towards the being. Hearing that name irritated Rick further, as it belonged to the man he strongly disliked.

"Aw, does that name mean something to you?" Jerry teased as he snickered. "Oh wait, it does! It's the name of the man who impregnated your daughter! How silly, I almost forgot!" Rick wanted to throw up in his mouth. "Shut the f-fuck up, you jello cocksucking bastard!" Rick yelled, shooting at the alien. The alien's body absorbed the shot, forming back to its original state. "You can't kill me, Rick Sanchez." Jerry states, voice deep and menacing.

"As I was saying, I wanted my vengeance for my brother. So I sent out hundreds of my soldiers, making sure I know his exact location at any given time of day." The alien finishes, standing right beside the shrine. "Wh-What the fuck kind of n-nonsense shit is that? No one told y-you that your disgusting ass brother tri-tried to rape my fucking grandson?" Rick asks, aiming his gun to the alien's head.

Jerry began to laugh, almost as if Rick had said the funniest joke in the whole universe. "Rick, you're so fucking pathetic! I can't believe Morty looks up to your lame ass! I mean, you're a waste of fucking space!" Jerry continues to laugh, to the point where he began wheezing. "It's so fucking hilarious how you put this front, trying to block out all emotions! I can't breathe!" Jerry was hysterical. "Fuck you." Is all Rick managed to say.

"I know you'd do anything to be surrounded by people again." Jerry says, only to be shot and broken into smaller pieces of himself.

"I know you're lonely, Rick. You distance yourself from others so you don't have to feel pain." Another shot.

"You blame yourself for Morty's nightmares and panic attacks. You want to disappear from his life." Another shot.

"You blame yourself for everything wrong with Morty. You blame yourself." Rick screamed, trying to get Jerry out of his head.

"You love Morty. So much in fact, that you belittle him, because that's all you know how to do, Rick. Humiliate, and destroy. Maybe you should blame yourself, it is all your fault that the boy can barely sleep at night." Rick began to cry, his cold exterior now being broke into.

"You're the reason why he cries himself to sleep most nights. He believes that he is replaceable and forgettable." Rick pounded at his head, trying to block out Jerry's voice.

"He believes that you hate everything that he is. He believes that you wish he did not exist."

"You drink to forget about the things you've done. You drink to feel nothing. Rick Sanchez does not feel." A piece of the jello was on Rick's head, making him remember things he's kept buried for years.

"Rick Sanchez does not know love." Jerry states. Rick was trapped in his memories, reliving the terrible things he has done.

"Rick Sanchez does not know who he is." The old man rose the gun to his head, tears streaming from his eyes. He shut his eyes, trying to prevent anymore tears from escaping.

"Rick Sanchez says he hates humanity, but truthfully... _He hates himself."_

Opening his eyes, he realised that he was on the floor. It seemed like he had fell to the floor, as he was sitting on his legs. He looked up, seeing that the jello bastard back in one piece, his blood began to boil.

Rising back onto his feet, Rick aimed the gun to Jerry's head, his hands unsteady. Shooting at Jerry, Rick kept going until he ran out of bullets. At this time, Jerry's jelly-like brain was hit, causing him to implode on himself, splattering blue jelly all over the room.

Rick made a noise as he wiped away the blue jello from his eyes, using the portal to escape back home. He wanted nothing more than to drink again. He wanted to forget this experience.

Using the portal, he entered the family's garage. "Morty where you at?" He asked, looking around the garage. He looked down, his heart dropping to his feet.

"Oh god. Morty? Morty wake up. Wake up! Please— oh god." Rick begged, dropping to his knees as he lifted up Morty's body into his lap. "Morty? Please don't go. Please, please, please!" Rick began to sob, the tears rolling off his face like raindrops on the boy's cheek. Rick heard paper crunch underneath Morty. Finding the crumpled yellow paper, Rick gripped it tight, his fist on his head. The man threw the paper in an act of rage and sadness.

He lifted himself up, Morty unmoving in his arms. Pushing off everything on the workbench, he laid Morty down on top of it. Rick rushed, trying to make something that would save his grandson's depleting life.

Once finished, he hooked the boy up to monitors and everything, trying to hear his heartbeat. Rick's eyes watered even more, as he saw the boy's heartbeat was near nonexistent. Rick tried everything he could think of, though all attempts were in vain. 

Realising this fact, Rick unhooked his grandson from the machinery, choosing to hold him close to his chest. Rick lifted the boy, carrying him like a child as he sank to the floor. Morty's head sagged back like an infant's, Rick crying as he had to hold the boy's head against his shoulder. 

"Morty, I'm so, so sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry that I didn't protect you enough." Rick says through the tears, voice broken and hoarse.

Morty was so, so cold. His bright yellow shirt stained with blood. His arm covered in blood, both dried and fresh..

Rick stroked Morty's cheek, not bothered by its coldness.

The only person he found irreplaceable, unforgettable — one of a kind.

The only person he truly loved.

His grandson was gone. His breath gone, and his heartbeat no more. Morty ceased to be.

 _"I'm so sorry, Morty."_ Rick whispers, kissing the top of Morty's head.


End file.
